Pampered Princess
by Lady Eleanor Boleyn
Summary: Eighteen months ago, the Ministry implemented a Marriage Law. Hermione is now six months pregnant with Draco's first child. She is thoroughly enjoying having Narcissa Malfoy wait on her hand and foot. Silly slice-of-life fic that wouldn't leave me alone.


_I am well aware that Hermione is completely OOC in this, but I couldn't resist the amusing image of a doting Narcissa fussing around a crabby, pregnant Hermione, so here is this fun little drabble_.

Hermione shifts and groans on the lavish chaise-longue, leaning back against the strain of her swelling belly. As always, she exaggerates her symptoms, knowing that Narcissa will never dare to challenge her. Not her, Hermione Granger, war heroine, one-third of the Golden Trio…and oh, yes, Narcissa's eventual successor as Lady Malfoy and mistress of Malfoy Manor.

The Ministry had insisted, you see. A year or so after the Battle of Hogwarts, when the final realisation of just how draining the Wizarding Wars had been on the population of Magical Britain had sunk in, Minister Shacklebolt and those around him had decided to kill two birds with one stone. They'd arranged marriages for all those of age who weren't already married and offered financial incentives to those who had at least three children. Moreover, to prevent anything like the blood purity mania ever breaking out again, they'd matched the children of former Death Eaters to those who had fought for the light, those of what they had once considered 'lesser' blood status.

What better symbol, therefore, than matching the youngest surviving Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, to the Chosen One's best friend? So Kingsley and the other ministers had thought, in their determination to make sure that none of the next generation could ever call themselves 'Pureblood' again. Hermione and Draco had married in a vast, public ceremony in the atrium of the Ministry itself, everyone who was anyone – and quite a few people who weren't anything at all – in enforced attendance.

Fifteen months later, then, finds Hermione in her current position. Heavily pregnant with the newest Malfoy heir(ess), and with Narcissa, who knows only too well that her family is being closely watched for any signs of rebellion, dancing doting attendance upon her every whim.

Bored out of her mind – Wizarding Britain might finally have realised that Pureblood supremacy is something to be eschewed, but that doesn't mean it's ready to allow married women to have a career, particularly not when they're pregnant – Hermione is just petty enough to enjoy making Narcissa wait on her.

She groans again and this time the older woman springs up and hurries over.

"Do you need anything, darling? Can I call the house elves to get you anything?"

Narcissa's voice is dripping with saccharine. They both know that her solicitude is as much of an act as Hermione's discomfort, if not more so, but it is one that must be played out, if only for the benefit of the monitoring charms. The Malfoys will be watched, even in their own homes, until the eldest son that Hermione bears Draco is eleven and has been named Heir to the Malfoy title, just to make sure that they don't try to harm either her or the baby in order to have them replaced as the future Lady and Heir to the Malfoy estate.

Hermione says nothing, simply pushes into Narcissa's hands, forcing the older woman to rub her back until she groans again, this time in relief, as her backache finally begins to subside.

Oh, she could have asked for a pain potion, of course she could, but where would be the fun in that? Tatiana Imogen Malfoy – for Hermione has already cast the spell and worked out that her upcoming child will be a girl, though she sees no reason to inform Draco, Lucius and Narcissa of that little fact, finding it quite amusing that they are all so determined that it will be a boy – will be here in three short months, most likely sooner, if Hermione and Draco's own births are anything to go by. Once that happens, then, Nanny elves or not, Narcissa will stop doting on her quite so much. She'll be too keen to push her back into Draco's bed and try and get her pregnant with a boy…when she's not playing the doting grandmother to her new half-blood granddaughter, naturally.

Hermione has every intention of milking this desperate indulgence as far as is humanly possible while she can.

That thought in mind, she groans again, clutching at Narcissa as though she's the only thing saving her from drowning.

"Oh, it's so hot in here!"

Narcissa pales and winces slightly at her wail – the older woman has always hated anything that is not what she considers 'proper, decorous behaviour', but nonetheless, obligingly waves her wand through the motions of a cooling charm. Her spell is somewhat overpowered, sending an icy blast at Hermione rather than the cool breeze she'd been aiming for.

Hiding a giggle at this obvious sign of irritation from her mother-in-law, Hermione subsides on to the cushions, musing silently as to what else she can do. Ginny, now mother to three-week old Lily Luna and Maria Alice Potter, had mentioned in passing that, for most of the last three months of her pregnancy, she'd had to wake Harry three times a night, if not more, to get him to help her to the bathroom. Hermione can't do that with Draco, not when Narcissa insists he sleeps in his own suite to give her space in the bed, but perhaps, if she pretends her vivid dreams are worse than they actually are, she'll be able to persuade Narcissa to share her room instead…

Still smirking and plotting, Hermione lets her eyes fall shut as a wave of drowsiness, helped along by Narcissa's subtle sleeping charm, overtakes her.


End file.
